


Alternatives to Absolution

by abstractconcept



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Smut, non-con, twistedness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:06:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4403678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/abstractconcept/pseuds/abstractconcept
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because Lucius got away with it doesn’t mean he’ll get away with it. Top!Harry, non-con, and this thing was so freakin’ much fun to write, you have <i>no </i>idea.<a id="cutid1" name="cutid1"></a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Alternatives to Absolution

**Author's Note:**

> [](http://djin7.insanejournal.com/profile)[djin7](http://djin7.insanejournal.com/)'s "drabble" (not at all a drabble, sadly) for the [](http://www.insanejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=naughty_newyear)[naughty_newyear](http://www.insanejournal.com/userinfo.bml?user=naughty_newyear)  exchange.

Harry had been doing a bit of shopping when he spotted Lucius, and he felt like a great hollow bell that’d been struck, suddenly shaking, his ears ringing with rage. The man just walked about like nothing, like he had every right to be on the street. His bearing was casual, almost bored as he swept from shop to shop.  


The man was back on the streets less than a fortnight after Voldemort had been brought down. And sure, he’d given them information that’d helped, but he hadn’t done it cheerfully. It was only when Voldemort went looking for the spy in his ranks and decided that Lucius must be it that he’d turned tail and switched sides. Voldemort hadn’t even been _right_ —it was Snape that had still been spying for the light. Lucius was just superfluous. They hadn’t _needed_ him.  


A couple of lousy tips and they’d let him go. A few hints at Voldemort’s plans, and they acted like he was some great hero. The fucking Ministry had given him a medal, right alongside the _truly_ deserving, like Lupin and Ron. It was ridiculous. A travesty. A handful of gold coins and a few muttered suggestions, and the man could do no wrong.  


Harry wasn’t sure why he followed Malfoy. He supposed he was just curious. He wasn’t going to _do_ anything, really. Just watch. If there was a wasp about, he wanted to know where it went, that was all.  


Of course Lucius headed for Knockturn Alley. Harry might have guessed. He tried to keep a good distance back, watching those shiny boots clap through the puddles, that fine wool cape swing elegantly against the backdrop of grimy stone. He dressed well, but he certainly wasn’t squeaky clean—Lucius belonged here, with the rats and the dodgy merchandise.  


When an old hag came between them, Harry lost sight of the man for a moment, and by the time the woman had moved on, Lucius had vanished.  


Cursing under his breath, Harry wandered around a bit, feeling stupid. This had been a bad idea. And if the papers found out he’d been hanging around Knockturn Alley, everyone would make a big deal about it. Eventually, he gave up and retreated to a nearby wall, leaning against it, resting his head in the crook of his arm, hiding from the world.  


"Were you looking for something, Mr. Potter?"  


Harry’s head snapped up, and his eyes met Malfoy’s. "Yes. You."  


"Might I ask why?"  


"Because it doesn’t do to turn one’s back on you, does it?" Harry spat.  


Malfoy was standing in shadow, looking cool and callous and conceited, his hair smoothed back and held in place with a ribbon, his stockings perfect on his well-muscled calves, everything about him _flawless._ "No, I suppose it doesn’t. Presenting your backside to me is an invitation to a thorough buggering, isn’t it?"  


Harry _hated_ the way he could say things like that and get away with it. He hated the way Malfoy could do anything he liked and get away with it. He hated the way Lucius laughed with his eyes, and the way he fiddled with his gloves as though he hadn’t anything more important to do, and the way he stood straight and proud, like he owned the world.  


Harry absolutely _loathed_ that man.  


And all of a sudden something snapped inside, and Harry was shoving him deeper into that shadow, and hexing his cane from his hands, and yanking that long blond hair loose from its tie, and Lucius gave Harry a shove but oh! Harry had grown—Harry had grown quite a bit, and couldn’t be pushed about any more.  


"Potter! Unhand me!" Lucius was twisting, snarling, eyes darting, mortified that someone should see him like this.  


Harry rather liked that. He liked that someone should see them, that Lucius should be _punished,_ and here in Knockturn Alley, there were no helpful bystanders to intervene, there were only smirks, snickers, _onlookers_.  


Harry hadn’t beaten the Dark Lord at Monopoly. He’d played hard and rough, and learned his curses and spells. He learned how to maim, how to immobilize, how to always come out on top. Who knew such things would be so useful outside of a time of war?  


Lucius made less noise than Harry expected, even when Harry had slammed him up against the wall, ripped open his trousers, trapped his hands behind his back. There were threats, imprecations, hisses of displeasure as Lucius’ chest scraped against the wall. The air was chilly, and Harry was shivering with cold, but there was more than enough heat where it counted, and he was swelling from the churning, helpless anger he’d been forced to endure.  


He bit at Lucius, clawed him, touched that sculpted, slim figure all over, watching pale skin mottle as it flushed. And all the while Malfoy goaded him, incited him with slurs and slander, _Little Potter thinks he’s all grown up now?_ and _You can’t get it any other way, can you?_ and _Go on, then, show me you can fuck—you won’t last five minutes—you don’t have the vaguest notion of what you’re about!_  


God it was hot inside Malfoy, and _God_ how he’d never expected to do anything like this, and _God_ now Malfoy was pushing _back_ like he wanted _more_...  


Harry’s wandering hands eventually around to the front of the man, where he was surprised to find that Malfoy _was_ getting off on this. And fuck if that didn’t just turn Harry on even more. As much as he hated Lucius, it was incredibly empowering to hold that rigid length in his hand, thrusting and panting and feeling the man squirm.  


Harry wanted to come, wanted to leave Lucius unsated, but the man’s cock was twitching, spurting over Harry’s hand, and Lucius’ forehead was resting against the wall as he groaned and shuddered through his climax. He turned his head to sneer at Harry, but Harry fisted a hand in Malfoy’s hair, forcing his tongue into the man’s mouth.  


The man could have bitten him, but he didn’t. Harry wouldn’t have called it a kiss, though—a kiss would have been less brutal, and Lucius’ teeth _did_ rather scrape his tongue, and their lips seemed only to be minor players in the whole activity. It was good, though. It was very arousing, desperate and slick, and when Lucius gave him that haughty, heated look as Harry came up for air, Harry plunged deeply into the man’s body, feeling that arousal shoot from his belly to his balls, spilling himself inside Malfoy.  


Harry was mortified. Sure, he was satisfied in a way he’d never felt before, but he’d just gone and _raped_ one of the Wizarding World’s most influential citizens. That wasn’t… _right._ Even if it _was_ awfully, awfully good. He stumbled back and struggled with his trousers, waving his wand in Malfoy’s general vicinity.  


Lucius spun as soon as Harry took the binding spells off of him, yanking his pants up, trying to smooth his unkempt hair down. He’d somehow regained that aggravating smirk he always wore, and was directing it at Harry. "Well. Snape always _said_ you were a nasty little boy. I had no idea he meant it in such a fun, sexual context. It seems one shouldn’t turn their back on you for the same reason one shouldn’t turn their back on _me._ That was quite amusing. I ought to anger you more often in the future." His laughing, chilly eyes hadn’t changed one damn bit.  


Harry flushed with fury. "You needn’t," he said shortly. "You’ve enraged me enough over the years to earn you a _lifetime_ of rough fuckings. Here," he thrust a card at the man.  


"What’s this?" Lucius glanced at it. "Your calling card? My, but how we’ve gone up in the world."  


Harry swallowed. "It’s got my address. The next time you feel like being thrown down and ridden hard, don’t hesitate to drop by. I’m sure we can find somewhere more comfortable than a dark alley, even if it doesn’t suit you as well."  


Malfoy looked a bit uncertain at this. "You... _want_ the pleasure of my company?" he asked arching a sceptical eyebrow.  


Harry thought this over as he straightened his robes. "You may never be made to pay your debt to society, but you’ll damn well pay your debt to _me._ Saturday evening. Eight o’clock. See you then, Lucius," he snapped, turning and striding away.  


Malfoy gingerly shifted from one foot to the other before smiling just a little. Loud enough for the rest of the alley to hear, he called out, "It’s a date. Do stock up on lubricant, Harry." His smile widened as the back of Potter’s neck reddened.  


And after all, Malfoys never lost. They just switched games.

* * *


End file.
